


Heart

by starlightwalking



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Battle of the Hornburg | Battle of Helm's Deep, Boromir Lives, Gen, Tolkien Gen Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Boromir had made many mistakes in his life, but his heart had never steered him wrong. Now, watching Éowyn stare longingly at the men preparing for battle, he knew he had to listen to his heart again.





	Heart

**Author's Note:**

> For Tolkien Gen Week, Day 2: Platonic Relationships.

Boromir watched as the White Lady of Rohan ushered the sick and the old to safety. Children obeyed her command; all men respected her. All except King Théoden.

He knew Théoden was right to keep Éowyn away from the battle. She would survive to rebuild Rohan should the siege of Helm's Deep end in tragedy. She would be a good leader, and protect her people.

But as he watched her yearning glance as she observed the soldiers preparing for war, his heart told him it was wrong to hide her away.

Boromir had made many mistakes in his life. His betrayal of Frodo would haunt him for the rest of his days, however few they may be—but his heart had never steered him wrong. It was his logical head that pushed him into regret and folly.

So this time, instead of accepting Théoden's rationale, he followed what his heart told him.

He could hear orcs marching in the distance, coming to destroy the people of Rohan. These were noble men, and Boromir would be proud to fight to the death alongside them, his people's ancient allies. But not today.

As Éowyn shepherded the last of the women and children into the caves beneath the fortress, Boromir grabbed her arm. Éowyn turned on him, her hand at her swordhilt.

"Woah," he said, stepping back. "Lady—I am no foe!"

Slowly, she relaxed, her blue eyes guarded, calculating. "My Lord of Gondor. I am sorry for the offense."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Boromir crossed his arms, taking stock of the lady's strengths and weaknesses.

She had trained, and often—he had seen her sparring with Aragorn in the Golden Hall. She was strong beneath her slender figure, and noble as any of her brethren. If she had faults, they were recklessness and a lack of self-regard. She would learn from her mistakes and grow, in time—but only given the chance to fight. And Théoden—as was his right—would not give her that chance.

"My lord, how can I be of service?" she asked. She glanced back into the caves, then let her gaze drift over his shoulder to where soldiers prepared for battle.

"That blade of yours is not just for show," Boromir said. "It is a shame you are not putting it to good use tonight."

Éowyn's jaw stiffened. "I have my duties to my King. I will follow his orders." She paused. "Even if I am a shieldmaiden."

"You know, my lady..." Boromir began. "I have not had the opportunity to thank you for what you did for me. Your efforts in the infirmary at Meduseld saved my life. I don't know how to repay you."

Éowyn nodded gravely. "I assure you, my lord Boromir, I only did what is right. Any other maid—"

"Alas that battle must come again so soon!" he proclaimed, resting his hand over the healing tissue on his chest. "I am to fight with the men, and I am proud to do it, but in my still-weary state I fear I will not prove much use..." He looked at her meaningfully.

"My lord, your recovery has been remarkably smooth and swift," she said. "I do not fear for you, but if you would like me to look at your wound again...?"

"It is a  _shame_  such a capable fighter like yourself must hide with those who need protection," Boromir continued. He could not have been more obvious if he were winking and nudging.

Éowyn stared at him. "...Yes," she said at last. "But what does that—" She stopped, realizing. Her hand gripped her swordhilt tightly. "My lord..."

"Ach, my wound," Boromir said dramatically. "I will fight like a dying bear to defend the Keep, but I—"

"Boromir, what are you doing?" called Gimli. "The battle's nearly here!"

"Just a moment!" he called back. Then he turned and smiled to Éowyn, his hands on his hips. "You know, I bet if you slipped on some spare armor, no one would be able to tell if you were a girl."

"My lord, I see what you are saying, but—I cannot," she said reluctantly. "My people need me to be with them, and I..."

Boromir pushed past her and began to walk into the caves. "Like a bear defending her young, I will watch over them!" he promised.

"Boromir!" Gimli trudged down to meet them. "Boromir, Aragorn wants to see your sorry little—" He glanced at Éowyn and coughed. "Lad, it's time!"

"I'm staying here," Boromir said. "Tell Aragorn I'm—still wounded, and I'll do better with the women and children, protecting them. No orc will get past me!"

Behind them, Éowyn picked up a helmet. She stared at it for a moment, then placed it on her head and began looking around for armor.

"I'll keep the Lady Éowyn company," Boromir said. He winked at Gimli. "She's feeling...ill, so Théoden asked me to stay with her."

Gimli winced. "Now, lad, if you're going to lie, don't overcomplicate it."

"Ah, I was never good at lies," Boromir admitted, breaking his facade for a moment. "My brother was always the one who'd talk us out of trouble."

Gimli patted his leg comfortingly. "Keep trying. So then...what about—?" He jerked his head toward Éowyn.

The White Lady wore armor and mail, her sword drawn. Only her eyes were recognizable through her helmet, bright and fierce and true.

"Lord Gimli," she said gruffly. "I'm...Dernhelm. I got, uh, lost—"

"Why don't you take Dernhelm and show him to some place he can do some good?" Boromir suggested, slapping Gimli's back. "Ah—somewhere Théoden  _won't_  see him. Or Aragorn, for good measure."

Gimli shook his head. "Alright, Boromir, but on your own head be it if the King ever finds out!"

Éowyn sheathed her sword. "I'm ready. And—thank you, my lord."

"May your sword be true!" Boromir proclaimed.

As she turned to go, Boromir held Gimli back a moment. "Keep an eye on her," he hissed to the dwarf. "She shouldn't die here."

"Aye, my eyes and the elf's will be trained on her," he agreed. He clasped Boromir's hand warmly, then hurried after Éowyn. "Now...'Dernhelm'...let's work on that voice of yours."

Boromir watched them leave. He hoped Éowyn would survive the night. She was a good warrior, and a fine lady, and deserved more than the world had given her. She was the kind of girl Faramir might have liked.

He could do the most good guarding this entrance and lending his strength to the terrified people within the Keep. And if he could give Éowyn a chance to prove herself, all the better.

His heart satisfied, Boromir walked into the caves.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this stayed true to Boromir’s character - he’s definitely the kind of person to want to fight and defend, but I think he’s also the kind of person who would sacrifice that for someone else if he thought it was the right thing to do.


End file.
